


Painting The Universe

by crystalglas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalglas/pseuds/crystalglas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is the universe. Who holds the stars in her eyes and gravity in her body, who has memories like meteors that threaten to wipe out all she has created and break her. Who has black holes that she has the power to control but could easily consume her. She is beautiful and deadly, assigning lifeforms to one place. If they try to explore her depths they simple run out of oxygen. Choking and expanding, their bodies cannot handle her so they implode. Forever floating through her conscience, a reminder to not let anyone explore her ever again. </p><p>You are the human that got to paint the universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painting The Universe

An array of different sized paintbrushes meet your view and nerves naw at your stomach as you walk further into the room. Somehow it seems wrong to you, covering her body in swirls and patterns of paint. You are making a canvas out of a masterpiece. Blending pastel hues of greens and blues on that tanned skin that is a pattern in its self, a pattern that draws in anyone that catches a glimpse of its beauty. You are no different, looking at her as a desert wanderer would look at an oasis. She sits calmly animal fur covering her torso and upper thighs. Neutral eyes watch you as you drink her in and you can see something flicker behind her mask and it makes your insides squirm. You stand awkwardly, your hands are in fists, a desperate attempt to not jump at her with a paintbrush. She arches a eyebrow at your posture and licks her lips. The movement distracts you momentarily and when you meet her eyes again they hold amusement and you realise she's speaking.  
"Hmmm?" She sucks in a breath of air, preparing herself.  
"Are you ready to work? Clarke of the sky people."  
The way she addresses you sends shivers down your spine and causes butterflies to swarm your stomach. You give a firm nod and she stands. She turns graciously. Arms flex as she removes the fur pelt.

You see your canvas in full. You gasp, throat running dry, mouth agape. How could she be described as merely something to paint on? Because standing before you is the epitome of beauty. You suddenly have an urge to feel her skin to map out the dips and swells of flesh where muscles reside, to feel the expanse of her back, to play with the intricate braids running through her thick hair. You are walking without realising it hopeless to the way she is a magnet and you a piece of metal.

You reach out, trembling hands eager to discover the texture that will soon be coated in shades of the forest and sky. Her skin has a universe engraved into it, planets of ink tattoos and stars of scars each telling a different story. She lets out a shaky breath when your fingers trace the tribal tattoo by her shoulder which is now distorted by the tense muscles underneath. You place your hand on her shoulder applying pressure to the strained muscle.  
"shhhhh." its a simple sound. but it has so many unspoken meanings 'Your safe.' 'Its okay.' 'You can trust me.' she visibly relaxes but does not turn, keeping her steely gaze of the wall in front of her. You know she understands, she always does.

You finally let your imagination roam your gaze dancing over her back. exploring the possibilities, visualizing every stroke, every star that you can add to the glorious galaxy before you. constellations start to form making beautiful patterns that you are ready to recreate in the plain of reality.

Inspiration flows through your veins taking rein of your hands and pulling towards the waiting tools. Picking up the largest brush you make your way to the paints, which look like a thick pastes made from crushed berries and plants. Transporting some blue and green onto a piece of large bark which looks like a pallet You dilute the paste using some water from a nearby bowl. Soon the wood is an ocean of colour and the result is a pretty mint green which will contrast perfectly with the flawless skin of Lexa's back.

You make your way towards her and she meets your eyes over her shoulder. the candlelight illuminates her features making her jawline seem sharper and her eyes more luminous as they reflect trust into your own. You gulp, the familiar thudding of your helpless heart in your ears returning. You feel the first stroke of colour in every fibre of your being. It is all that is needed to break the dam that was holding back your tsunami of creativity. Your swept away, your hands moving in perfect practice, working on her body like you know it as well as she knows the woods. You hope one day you will. Soon your vision is a blur of tan and mint but you feel so much clarity. Lost in the way painting makes you feel, lost in the way she makes you feel.

Soon fatigue reaches your hands and paint is scarce. Your work is done. The symbols of the twelve clans run down her spine. Two Black wings burst from the Trikru symbol covering the expanse of her back. Each feather has mint green in it, as if her raven wings had green light shone on them. Her toes have light grey lines flowing from them to the back of her feet.

She seems to sense that your done. And turns, slowly walking toward what looks like the grounder version of a mirror. Suddenly your nervous, your work being reviewed like this, the ceremony is important and to be trusted with her body paintings is a huge responsibility. Your nerves quell when she dons a smile, tracing her hands over the two wings on her back. You supress a giggle when she almost falls from attempting to see it all from one side.

"Does my struggle amuse you, Skai Prisa?" your smile fades instantly at the name. Sky princess. Do you deserve that title? After what you've done, after the souls you've claimed. You don't know what it is about being with her but the deaths feel lighter, the guilt more bearable. Perhaps its because you know she carries the same guilt, that she is haunted and feels the same pain as you do.

"No Heda" you smirk and she smiles. You realise you've only ever seen a whisper of a smile on her lips. The full thing pulls a gasp from you. It is something magical, something that should be framed and put on show. You wonder if she knows how beautiful she is, raw and open like this.

She nods toward a small wooden seat and leaves the room. The silence nestles into your skin and clings to your bones. The absence of her laugh is a cruel sound.  
You wonder if this is the real Lexa. Your heart is still thudding widely in your chest and a part of you hopes it is, another part is scared because you know you felt for the blood soaked warrior as well.

She enters and your heart is a crazed beast in the cage that is your ribs. She is wearing a near transparent silk gown that hugs her waist and flows from her hips to the floor as she turns to close the door you see your painting is on full display, the back of the dress being non existent. It is a wanted feature for the nude color of the dress and the black /mint green of your painting match perfectly. Her hair is down and her braids more intricate she indicates to her face and you realise that its up to you to do her war paint.

You choose the smallest brush and do her usual war paint accept for the three streaks either side. you have always hated the way they look like tears or the blood of her victims so instead you leave them and do two short feathers extending from her temple upward and two short lines going down her face on either cheek.

You remove you fingers and examine your work making the mistake to look her in the eye. Once again your eyes steal the water from your mouth and you have to swallow down the words you ache to say. She nods forever understanding and stands glancing at you once more before leaving.

She is the universe. Who holds the stars in her eyes and gravity in her body, who has memories like meteors that threaten to wipe out all she has created and break her. Who has black holes that she has the power to control but could easily consume her. She is beautiful and deadly, assigning lifeforms to one place. If they try to explore her depths they simple run out of oxygen. Choking and expanding, their bodies cannot handle her so they implode. Forever floating through her conscience, a reminder to not let anyone explore her ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading i would love to know your thoughts
> 
> ps. good luck to all of us for season 3 i am not ready


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